


Switching Sides

by reeby10



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (Harry is 16 by the time a relationship develops), (diverges during 4th year), (it's Cedric... do I even need to warn for that lol), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Grey!Harry Potter, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Minor Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Underage ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2018-12-27 09:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12078288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reeby10/pseuds/reeby10
Summary: During the final task of the TriWizard Tournament, Harry comes face to face with a newly resurrected Voldemort. But instead of fighting him, Harry decides to join him. And he's never been happier.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My submission for Tomarry Big Bang 2017! The fic is (mostly...) finished, so I'll be posting a few chapters a day through the 17th.
> 
> I kind of impulsively signed up for this bang, knowing I wouldn't have enough time to do it justice will all the exchanges I was signed up for. But somehow I managed it?? Mostly in bursts of panic at approaching deadlines lol This was actually based on a fic idea from before 2014, so I'm really glad to finally get it out into the world. I hope it's as good as it was in my mind :)
> 
> Thank you to biffelderberry for beta!
> 
> ETA: [Art by darklordtomarry](http://darklordtomarry.tumblr.com/post/165288851048/my-art-for-voldiebuns-fic-switching-sides-for-the) :D

Harry sat in the Common Room, head bent over a textbook as he tried to find any spells that might be useful for him to know before the final task. It was hard to concentrate in the bustle of the common area, surrounded by people studying and talking and playing around. The noise had a headache bubbling up at his temples and he wished for a moment they’d all just shut up.

Ron and Hermione were supposed to be helping him, but they’d devolved into petty arguing awhile back. He wasn’t even sure what the argument was. Something about Ron making fun of her planner or something like that. Definitely not something that was more important than them helping him stay alive during the final task.

“Can you two just shut up, please?” he eventually snapped. They broke off mid sentence, staring at him. “I’m trying to, you know, learn something that’s going to keep me from dying and you’re certainly not helping.”

Hermione frowned. “You don’t have to be so rude about it, Harry,” she said reproachfully. “We’re just talking.”

“Yeah, lighten up, mate,” Ron said, slapping him genially on the back.

Harry stared at them, anger bubbling up in the pit of his stomach. “You do realize my life is _literally_ on the line, don’t you?”

“I know you’ve had a few close shaves during the tournament,” Hermione replied. The patronizing tone of her voice put him on edge and he gritted his teeth in an effort to not just snap back. “But it’s all for fun. I’m sure there’s no _real_ danger to you. It’s not like You-Know-Who is behind all this.”

That was the last straw. He needed to get away from everyone for a while before he really blew a gasket and he got yet another lecture on his childish temper. “You know what, Hermione?” he said with as much patience as he could muster. He very carefully closed the book he’d been looking through, gathering up the rest of his belongings. “I’m sure you’re right. I’ll just go to bed.”

He stood and headed upstairs without looking back, though he could hear the two of them sputtering behind him. Hopefully Ron wouldn’t come after him, he didn’t think he could deal with that right now. He just needed some quiet while he studied and tried to figure out how to survive the upcoming task. He had a feeling it was going to be a lot harder than any of them thought, and he was worried.

***

The day of the last task came all too quickly for Harry. He’d managed to learn a few spells well enough to perform them reliably if he needed to be, and there were a few more that he was hoping he’d be able to do if pressed. Hopefully it would be enough.

He spent the first half of the day with the Weasleys, showing Molly around the castle and grounds. It was a little annoying to lose that last bit of preparation time, but he was glad to not be on his own for a while. He and Ron had gotten into another argument that morning and he’d talked to neither Ron nor Hermione since then. It was just another layer of stress on his already weary mind.

As he stood, waiting for the task to begin, it was all he could think about. This was when he most needed his friends’ support, but they just weren’t there. Even Dumbledore, who was supposed to help and protect him, had fallen short in regards to the TriWizard Tournament. He couldn’t imagine how the old wizard had believed letting him compete was a good idea, no matter what that stupid goblet had said.

Dumbledore hadn’t even believed him about not putting his name in, like he thought Harry would somehow want to risk his life in this kind of ridiculousness. Like he needed to prove himself somehow. He was only fourteen when all the rest were overage! He knew he didn’t stand a chance.

He tried to put such thoughts out of his mind as he entered the maze. There was no telling what kind of danger lay around every corner, especially since Hagrid had put some of his terrifying creatures in there somewhere. Harry already had enough experience with how deadly those could be, he’d really rather not be eaten by some vicious creature while the whole school and half the Ministry was watching.

Somehow, though, he made it through. He was injured, yes, but he was pretty sure he would be fine. At least he was until he and Cedric touched the trophy and he felt that sickening tug that told him he’d just been transported by portkey.

A flash of green and all Harry could do was scream out, “No!”

His mind was a blur of pain and grief and confusion as Cedric went down and Pettigrew tied him up to use him in a ritual. It was hard to focus, hard to understand that there really had been a set up. For once Hermione had been wrong. Voldemort really had been behind the TriWizard Tournament, at least this final part of it.

When Voldemort rose up from the cauldron, Harry couldn’t help but stare in awe. For all that the Dark Lord had been after him his entire life, he’d never seen him like this. Seeing him standing so strong and solid in brand new black robes, pale, snake like features stark in the light of the still burning fire, was so very different than the stories he’d been told of the first war or the face on the back of Quirrell's head or even the younger version from the diary.

Uncomfortable as it was to still be tied up to the tombstone, he was also grudgingly impressed with how much effort had obviously gone into Voldemort’s resurrection. Pettigrew was the only one there for now, but it was obvious that he hadn’t been the mastermind. Probably hadn’t even been much help really, Sirius and Remus always said Pettigrew was the least intelligent and most ambitious of the Marauders.

Harry was wrenched away from his thoughts by a cool hand on his face, fingers digging into the sides of his jaw as they pulled him up to look Voldemort in the face. Voldemort was smiling at him, thin lips reflecting the triumph he obviously felt at finally having a body again. Despite the situation, Harry couldn’t really blame him. He’d be pretty pissed floating around as a spirit or stuck as a crinkly little baby too.

“So, Potter, we finally come face to face,” Voldemort said, a sibilant hiss drawing out every ‘s’ just a little longer than usual. “Are you surprised?”

“I’m more surprised you’re not uglier,” Harry replied before he could think better of it. He flushed immediately, feeling like he’d already said far too much, but stubbornly kept eye contact.

Voldemort’s smile grew, the hand on Harry’s face becoming more of a caress than anything else before it pulled abruptly away. “Very interesting,” he murmured, eyes darting to Harry’s scar for the barest second before focusing back on his eyes.

“What is?” Harry asked, frowning. He wasn’t sure what Voldemort had seen or heard in what he’d said, but he was fairly sure he wasn’t going to like whatever conclusion the Dark Lord had drawn.

“Never you mind,” Voldemort said, stepping back, but there was surprisingly little heat in his words. He was silent for another moment, then nodded. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Yes.”

The answer to the question that hadn’t even been asked yet seemed to surprise them both. Harry could feel his heart pounding unsteadily in his chest as the two of them stared at each other, but he didn’t give in to the urge to take back what he’d said. He wanted to see what Voldemort would do.

“You want to join me?” Voldemort finally asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. A dozen feet away, Pettigrew startled at the words, but they ignored him. “Do you know what that means?”

“No,” Harry said honestly.

He took a deep, steadying breath and tried to forget everything but what he wanted in this moment. In a way, it felt like the first and only time he’d ever really been able to make a decision for himself. Thankfully, Voldemort seemed to somehow understand that, remaining quiet as he gave Harry a chance to think. That, out of everything, made up his mind.

“I don’t understand everything it means,” Harry reiterated, relaxing a little when Voldemort nodded but didn’t look upset. “But I still want to… to join you.”

Off to the side, Pettigrew made a sound that sounded a little like an animal choking. Voldemort pulled his wand from his pocket, flicking it almost absentmindedly at the rat faced man. The sound was cut off, but Harry didn’t bother to turn and find out what had happened to him.

“You understand that I can’t simply take your word that you wish to join me, don’t you?” Voldemort asked. Harry nodded. He wouldn’t trust him if the situation was reversed either. “As such, before I free you, you will make an oath on your magic not to harm me.”

Harry frowned. “Just not to harm you? You don’t want to mark me or make me swear my loyalty?”

“I’m beginning to feel that merely marking you would be a waste,” Voldemort replied, the corner of his mouth pulled up in amusement. He waved his wand, and suddenly the pain in Harry’s leg that he’d barely even noticed anymore, was gone. “Think of this as… a test of sorts. You are young still, there will be time for oaths of loyalty later.”

“Alright,” Harry said.

He wasn’t quite sure he understood that either, but that was fine, as Voldemort said, there would be time. For the first time, he thought he actually believed there might be a future for him, one not overshadowed by looking over his shoulder at every turn. Maybe this new future would turn out to be more of the same, but for now he was feeling something that might be peace.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with some really (really!) [fantastic art](http://darklordtomarry.tumblr.com/post/165288851048/my-art-for-voldiebuns-fic-switching-sides-for-the). Thank you, darklordtomarry, it's beautiful <3

Riddle Manor looked much nicer than it had the last time Harry had seen it in a vision. If he hadn’t known any better, he would never have thought it had been practically abandoned for decades. He supposed that while Pettigrew and Crouch were preparing for Voldemort’s resurrection, they’d also prepared the enormous house for habitation. After all, their Dark Lord was going to live there. They couldn’t just leave it ashambles.

Still, Harry couldn’t help they way he stared around as soon as Voldemort apparated them into the entryway. Pettigrew, still smarting from whatever spell Voldemort had hit him with, appeared just a moment behind before stumbling away to attend to whatever duties he had. Despite it originally being a muggle dwelling, it certainly looked magical now. There were magical paintings on all the walls, various stern looking witches and wizards glaring down at him as if he didn’t belong, and rich looking furnishing everywhere he looked.

“Am… am I going to live here too?” Harry asked, feeling suddenly unsure. For all his confidence in the graveyard, he was beginning to wonder if maybe he really didn’t belong here.

“Don’t think like that, I have invited you into my home, so of course you belong,” Voldemort said absently, already striding deeper into the house. Harry scrambled to catch up. “And yes, you will live here as well. You may choose which room you prefer, I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

To Harry’s surprise, Voldemort sounded absolutely sincere about that. It was confusing to say the least. He’d expected some measure of acceptance when agreeing to join Voldemort, but this seemed far too much and too kind. And how was it that the Dark Lord seemed to know exactly what he was thinking without him saying a thing?

Harry found Voldemort sitting in the kitchen talking to a small, cheerful looking house elf dressed in a plain shift. He stopped, shocked to see such a creature here of all places, and in clothes no less. The house elf couldn’t be attached to the Riddle family as they were muggles, and it certainly didn’t come from the Gaunt side, so it had to be either Voldemort or Pettigrew’s personal house elf. The former seemed more likely. Perhaps Voldemort had picked the house elf up sometime on his travels and just hadn’t had need of it before, to Harry’s knowledge.

“Potter, this is my house elf, Bibbly,” Voldemort said, gesturing in the creature’s direction. “She will be taking care of things around the house, so ask her if you need anything. But remember that she is a servant, not a slave, and you will treat her as such.”

“Sure,” Harry replied. He paused for a moment when a thought occurred to him, but decided it was better to ask and be prepared. “Is anyone else going to be living here?”

“My Death Eaters will be here often, but for now the two of us will be the only full time inhabitants.”

“And Nagini, sir!” Bibbly squeaked, earning a smile and a nod from Voldemort.

“Of course, mustn’t forget Nagini,” he said, voice sounding far warmer now that they were talking about his snake. Harry wondered how long he’d had her for him to be so fond of an animal. “Speaking of, Pettigrew was _supposed_ to be fetching her.”

“Bibbly will check on the rat man, sir!” the house elf said, grinning, and with a snap of her fingers, she was gone.

Harry shook his head, amused. It seemed that maybe house elves were just a strange race, and Dobby hadn’t been quite as much the exception he’d thought he was. “Is she always like that?”

“Oh yes,” Voldemort replied, and there was definitely fondness in his voice now. It made him seem almost human, which was very strange indeed for Harry. “I acquired her service about twenty years ago, while travelling on the mainland. Not the sort of house elf you were expecting, hmm?”

“I wasn’t expecting a house elf at all,” Harry admitted. He took a seat across the table, careful not to get too close. “I didn’t think you much liked magical creatures.”

“There’s quite a lot about me that has been… shall we say, warped over the years,” Voldemort said. He didn’t sound upset by the idea, though Harry watched him closely. There was no telling what kind of temper he might have, and Harry had learned very well that a seemingly calm man could go to roaring mad very quickly. “I have no qualms about magical creatures. In fact, I daresay I hold them in higher regard than the Ministry does.”

Harry thought about that for a moment and found he couldn’t disagree. The Ministry, and the wider magical world as far as Harry had seen, could be quite cruel in regards to their treatment of magical creatures. Remus, for one, had been badly treated just because he was a werewolf, and he understood from talking to Fleur that full Veela weren’t treated much better.

Before Harry could think of anything to say, though, there was another pop and Bibbly reappeared a few feet away, Nagini wrapped around her small body. The snake immediately slithered down and went over to Voldemort, twisting around his legs like a cat. He petted her head, hissing nonsense at her. It might almost be sweet, if it hadn’t been a Dark Lord and his serpentine familiar.

“Rat man was too afraid to touch Nagini,” Bibbly said, apparently unbothered by the hissing. “Bibbly say sir will not be happy about that.”

“Mm, you’re right about that,” Voldemort said, frowning. He tapped a long white finger on his chin in thought. “He’ll be dealt with later. It’s good for him to wait for punishment, perhaps the dread will finally teach him to be useful.”

“I doubt that,” Harry snorted under his breath. Three sets of eyes turned to look at him and he shrugged, a little self conscious. “What? I hate him too. Not sure why you’re keeping him around, really.”

“One always needs someone for the drudge work, Potter,” Voldemort told him. He looked utterly amused by Harry’s words, and even Nagini seemed to be laughing in her own snakey way. “That’s a lesson I’ve learned very well. Always have an expendable nearby.”

Harry nodded cautiously, wondering why Voldemort seemed to be giving him advice. That wasn’t the sort of thing he expected to get from a Dark Lord, even one he’d entered into a tentative truce with. Though to be fair, it was becoming very clear that he didn’t know much at all about Voldemort, not really. His interest in Harry, aside from killing him, was certainly an unknown at the moment.

“I think that’s quite enough for tonight,” Voldemort said a few moments later, standing from his chair. He made a rather striking figure in his black robes, a thought Harry tried to brush away as soon as it came into his mind. “I believe sleep may be in order for all of us. We can talk more in the morning, Potter.”

Harry suddenly realized that it was indeed very, very late and he nodded in agreement. He hadn’t really thought about it, but after Voldemort’s meeting with the Death Eaters in the graveyard and them coming to the manor, it was probably coming up on early morning. The late hour was catching up with him quickly now that he’d become aware of it and he let out a long, jaw cracking yawn.

“Bibbly, show him to any room he likes. We’ll take breakfast late, I think.”


	3. Chapter 3

Harry woke to a room full of bright light and he groaned, turning his face into the silky sheets. Memories from the night began filtering in and he groaned again. He’d been too tired when he went to bed to really think about how much his life had changed in such a short amount of time, but now that was all he could think of.

He’d completely left his old life behind, and he was certain there was no going back even though he hadn’t done much yet. Everyone was probably frantic by now, wondering where he was. When Cedric’s body was sent back without him, there was no doubt a panic. They probably thought he’d been kidnapped.

He had to laugh at that thought, amused despite himself. Dumbledore and the Ministry both would probably be looking for him by now, sure he was gone against his will. How wrong they were…

Voldemort had mentioned that a full meeting would be called soon, so assumably that would mean Snape would be there too. Harry wasn’t sure what the plan was for him, whether he would be told about Harry’s presence or not. He supposed that would depend on what Voldemort had in mind for him in general, since that hadn’t really been discussed yet. Hopefully he’d find that out soon too.

There were clean robes, much nicer than any he’d worn before, waiting for him in the closet, probably thanks to Bibbly. He pulled them on and headed out of the room, wondering if he’d be able to find his way back to the kitchen. He’d been a bit too tired last night to really pay attention to the layout of the manor.

He wandered the hallways slowly, trying to familiarize himself with his surroundings. He was going to be living here after all, so it only made sense that he be able to find his way around. He couldn’t be relying on Bibbly for everything, though he was fairly certain she wouldn’t mind helping him out. She seemed quite happy to be useful.

The paintings on the walls didn’t look much less sinister in broad daylight. They stared at him as he walked, many of them stopping to whisper amongst each other as he passed. It made him wonder if they knew something that he didn’t. It was quite likely seeing as he pretty much felt that he knew nothing at the moment.

Eventually he found the kitchen, and he wasn’t sure whether or not to be disappointed when there was no Dark Lord in sight. There was, however, a plate waiting on the table, still warm. As he picked it up and dug in, he felt the faint, familiar pop of a dissolving warming charm.

There was still no sign of any other living creature by the time Harry finished and put the plate in the sink. He was sure Bibbly was around somewhere at least, and Nagini as well, though he couldn’t be so certain about Voldemort or Pettigrew. Last night he’d understood that Pettigrew wouldn’t be staying at the manor, so that wasn’t so much of a surprise, but he hadn’t really expected Voldemort to just let him wander along through his home, forget the blood oath he’d sworn.

Since there was no one there to stop him, he decided to continue his exploration. The manor was even more massive than he’d realized in his visions, though he wasn’t entirely sure whether that was because of the skewed perspective of them, or because whoever had fixed it up had added some expansion charms. He really wouldn’t be surprised if it was both.

He’d seen most of the first floor by now, so there was only the upper and lower floors to see. He decided the upper floors would be better, there was no telling what he’d find downstairs. He might have agreed to join the Dark Lord, but he didn’t think he was quite prepared for the possibility of some sort of torture chamber or whatever other horrible possibility.

Upstairs was mostly the same as downstairs, though there were mostly bedrooms instead of common areas. He did find one that wasn’t a bedroom. It was a huge, fully stocked library. Large windows covered the whole of the far wall, drenching the room in bright, almost overly cheerful light. The room was much different now than when he’d first glimpsed it in a vision months before.

Harry walked around the room, trailing a finger along the spines of the books. There were so many on subjects he’d never even heard of before. He supposed it made sense though. Voldemort had had decades to collect books from all over the world.

Almost hidden between the bookshelves on one wall was a closed door. He approached it carefully, wondering where it could lead. Some sort of private section of the library?

He was reaching for the handle when suddenly the door was wrenched open, making him stumble back a step in shock. In the doorway stood Voldemort, the backlighting of the room behind him making the sharp angles of his face stand out in sharp relief. For a moment, Harry thought he’d made a mistake, messed up somehow, but then Voldemort’s face soften just a bit.

“I see you have finally woken up,” Voldemort said, stepping back and waving Harry inside.

“Er, yeah, guess I needed the sleep,” Harry replied a little sheepishly. He followed the older man into the room, which seemed to be some sort of office. There was a large wooden desk with two chairs to one side, and two plush looking armchairs and a coffee table to the other, the window on the wall covered by dark, velvety looking curtains. It was all very… cozy. “This is your office?”

Voldemort nodded, taking a seat behind the desk. “For private matters, at least,” he said. “I’ll be seeing the majority of the Death Eaters in the parlor downstairs. I don’t trust all of them so far in my domain.”

Harry snorted. “You mean you do trust some of them enough?”

“It may come as a surprise to you, Potter, but I do not run everything entirely on fear and distrust,” Voldemort replied, sounding more amused than Harry would have guessed he’d be. “I do trust my inner circle, though of course not implicitly.”

“Of course,” Harry repeated, but apparently Voldemort chose to ignore the sarcastic tone. “So, you said last night we needed to talk? About… about what’s going to happen to me?”

“You make it sound so sinister.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, sure Voldemort was joking with him, but that would be ridiculous. Dark Lord’s didn’t joke like that. At least, he was pretty sure they didn’t. Though if he was honest, he didn’t know a whole lot about Dark Lords in general, or Voldemort in particular.

“I did have a few plans for you,” Voldemort continued, tapping at a book sitting on the desk in front of him. “You have much to catch up with in regards to your magical education. Hogwarts is not the beacon of magical learning it once was, thanks in most part to the Ministry’s distaste for our own history and culture.”

When he thought about it, Harry supposed that was probably true. The Ministry had always seemed a shadowy sort of entity to him, not really connected to the wider world as much as one would think. He knew first hand, too, that they weren’t infallible, and were perhaps even culpable in a great many wrongdoings. The dementors the year before and everything about Sirius’s situation were proof enough of that.

“You want me to… study?” Harry asked, feeling a little let down. He knew he’d never been a very good student, not like Hermione. “I don’t know about that.”

“It won’t be like your classes at Hogwarts. You will be learning so much _more_ ,” Voldemort replied. He smiled a little crookedly, the almost tentative expression strange on his snake like face. “Narcissa Malfoy will be your primary tutor, and others of my Death Eaters will take on tutoring duties as needed.”

Harry nodded, swallowing down a surge of nerves. “You’re sticking me with a Malfoy?” he asked, sure there was a whine in his voice but unable to do anything about it.

Voldemort rolled his eyes. “Lady Malfoy is one of my most educated followers, she’s by far the best choice. Despite your personal feelings.”

“Sure,” Harry grumbled, but he didn’t try to argue anymore. He was pretty sure very few people said no to Voldemort and lived to tell about it, and he didn’t particularly want to risk it. Besides, if this was what it was going to take for him to join Voldemort, then he’d do it. It wasn’t like he didn’t have plenty of experience doing things he didn’t want to do anyway, and a little studying was certainly not the worst thing that could happen to him.

“Now that that’s settled, I think it’s time we prepared for the full Death Eater meeting this evening.”

***

Harry was nervous, more nervous than he ever thought he’d been, as he waited for the meeting to begin. He stood in a corner of the ballroom, hood pulled up even though Voldemort had disillusioned him earlier. No one would know who he was until Voldemort wished them to.

At a quarter to eight, Death Eaters began trickling in. They too had their hoods up, so Harry couldn’t be sure who they were. As more and more began to arrive, he realized that there were far more Death Eaters than he had thought in his wildest dreams. Or nightmares. By the time the clock struck eight, the ballroom was almost completely full.

A hush came over the crowd as Voldemort stepped into the room, sweeping to the front of the assemblage like a wraith. As one, they kneeled, leaving only Voldemort and Harry standing. It was strange to see how easily all of these people deferred even after all the years Voldemort had been stuck in spectral form.

“Welcome, my loyal followers,” Voldemort hissed, voice sounding far higher and more snake like than it had since his resurrection. It sent a shiver up Harry’s spine, and was obviously having a similar effect on the Death Eaters. “You may rise and remove your hoods.”

There was a moment of hesitation now, but they all did as ordered. Hoods came down and Harry looked around to see if he recognized anyone. Most of them he couldn’t even make a guess on. But there was Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, standing at the end of the front row. Behind them there were two men who could have been related to Crabbe and Goyle, or perhaps just cave trolls. Bellatrix Lestrange was at the other end of the row, a wide, crazed smile on her face. Pettigrew was near her, still as pathetic looking as ever. And at the center of the row was Severus Snape.

For the most part, the meeting was boring. Harry leaned against the wall, picking at the sleeve of his robe, as Voldemort spoke to each Death Eater in turn. He seemed to be collecting information on their jobs, their families, their connections, but he also gave them tasks to complete. Most of it was political, so Harry tuned it out. He didn’t know enough about any of that for it to be important to him at the moment.

Finally, Voldemort dismissed them, all but the first row. They were his inner circle apparently, those closest and most loyal to him. There were seven of them, though Harry only recognized some of them. He assumed the others were probably just as famous, or infamous, as those.

“Ah, my most loyal, it is good to see you once again,” Voldemort told them, sounding less harsh and authoritative than when the others were still there. He gestured for Harry to come forward. “For you, I have special instructions. And a surprise that I believe will change the course of this war for good.”

“A weapon, my Lord?” Bellatrix asked, eyes glowing with excitement. The man beside her put a hand on her shoulder, holding her back from approaching closer, and she pouted.

“Of sorts. But I believe he will be far more than that if we help him to be so.”

All seven of them immediately looked over at Harry, and he was glad the hood kept them from seeing the blush that warmed his cheeks at suddenly being the center of such intense attention and curiosity. Perhaps he should have been used to it by now, being who he was, but he wasn’t sure he would ever like the feeling.

“Yes,” Voldemort said, answering their unasked questions with a smirk. He waved his hand, removing Harry’s hood and the disillusionment charm in a split second. “Meet Harry Potter.”

Several of them gasped, hands going to wands, and Harry braced himself for an attack. Voldemort just raised a hand, halting them in their tracks without a word. They relaxed a little, all except Snape, but it was obvious that they were still wary of this seeming enemy in their midst. Harry couldn’t really blame them, even with his life currently in danger as it was.

“Quite surprising, isn’t it?” Voldemort asked, smirk growing even larger. “Bringing Potter over to our side was not part of the plan for my resurrection, but I think he will be a great asset to us.”

“You said if we helped him, my Lord,” Lucius said, eyes still locked on Harry. “What do you need from us?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~What do you mean I write too much exposition and not enough dialogue??~~

Harry was exhausted by the time he made it to bed. The meeting with the Inner Circle had gone late into the night, leaving him to crawl between his sheets far later than he would have liked. But he felt rather good about the outcome of the meeting. Despite the spontaneity of his change of sides, things seemed to be working out well and he really felt like the future was looking brighter.

None of the Inner Circle had questioned his presence, though there had been many long looks, especially from Snape and the Malfoys. Harry was kind of impressed that they’d been so quiet, trusting their Lord’s word that Harry was on their side. From what he’d gathered from Dumbledore and the Weasley’s, he wouldn’t have thought they’d be quite so trusting.

Especially when Voldemort seemingly came back from the dead after over a decade. Even Harry was barely sure he believed that, and he’d been there.

They’d also set up a tutoring schedule for the summer. Narcissa would be coming to the manor every weekday for lessons, though Harry wasn’t sure if they’d be following the Hogwarts curriculum or covering something a little… different.

He also had to wonder what Draco was going to think about his mother being away so much. Voldemort had decided no one outside of the Death Eaters was to know he was back and no one outside the Inner Circle was to know about Harry yet, and he assumed that meant Draco as well, even if both of his parents were included. It would probably drive him crazy to have her gone all the time and not telling him what was going on.

Most of the rest of the meeting with the Inner Circle hadn’t been of much interest to Harry. It was all about planning and political machinations, neither of which Harry knew much about. The interested part came at the end when Snape finally made his report.

Dumbledore and the Ministry were frantic over his disappearance, as Harry had known they would be. It felt kind of nice to know that so many people were looking for him, were worried about him; but at the same time, he couldn’t help but be bitter that it had taken him being gone to really care about his safety and well being. They sure hadn’t been this worried about his home life with the Dursleys.

Snape sneered through his entire report, but Harry found he didn’t mind it so much. Snape couldn’t do anything to him now. Which might have explained how annoyed Snape looked, even more so than usual. Or it might have just been that Dumbledore was hounding him, suspecting some sort of connection to Voldemort.

He didn’t know how right he was.

Harry was especially amused by the already growing tension between Dumbledore and the Ministry, who obviously didn’t believe Voldemort had anything to do with his disappearance. It was likely neither would find out anything before Voldemort decided it was time for them to, so that tension would just grow and grow until something gave. Harry hoped he’d be able to see the fallout from that.

Snape’s job was to start misdirecting both Dumbledore and the Ministry as he could. With school over, Snape was fairly certain Dumbledore would be ordering all of the teachers out to look for any sign of Harry. He would of course be one of them, and that would give him ample opportunity to point everyone whichever way Voldemort wanted.

All in all, it was looking like the summer was going to be a very interesting few months. Harry was happy that for once, he would be able to watch it all from the sidelines instead of being stuck in the middle. He thought he rather deserved a break.

***

The weeks flew by, full of tutoring appointments with Narcissa, and occasionally other Death Eaters when the subject warranted it. Rodolphus was teaching him dueling, instituted when Harry decided he was bored of just book learning after a month, and he was a far better teacher than Lockhart ever could have hoped to be.

Bellatrix had taken to hanging around during the dueling lessons, which had admittedly been very strange at first. She was obviously not quite right, though if that was because of her stay in Azkaban or not, he couldn't really say. He had a feeling Sirius would have said she was mad long before then.

After a time, though, he got used to her presence. She was an accomplished duelist in her own right, far more vicious and spontaneous than Rodolphus. Watching the two of them fight was both terrifying and exhilarating, and for the first time, Harry really understood why Voldemort's troops had proved so deadly during the first war.

After the dueling lessons, Bellatrix often stuck around the manor, so Harry got to know her better whether he wanted to or not. He had a feeling the Malfoys, who she was staying with, were happy to have her out of their hair for awhile every week, but he knew the real reason she came was just to get some time in the Dark Lord's presence.

She was fanatically loyal to him, even more so than Harry had originally realized. That loyalty, somehow, had started to bleed over to Harry himself as well. It had been a subtle change at first, her disdain for his presence turning to stilted pleasantries to warm hugs as the weeks went on. Eventually she was paying as much attention to him as she was to Voldemort himself.

In a way, it was nice. Crazed as she was, it felt almost like the mother figure he never really had. She was willing to teach him anything he wanted to learn, tell him anything he wanted to know, give him anything he asked for. Her physical proximity, full of too tight hugs and slant lipped kisses to the cheek, were even nice in their own way. Maybe she was more like the aunt he should have had, which he supposed would make Rodolphus and Malfoy like his uncles.

If the developing relationships with many of the Death Eaters had Harry confused, his relationship with their Lord was even more confusing. Had known from the beginning, since seeing his much younger diary self, that he was attracted to Voldemort, and apparently he even was in his current snake like form. But he also knew that he was probably just a child in the Dark Lord’s eyes, so he tried to keep his feelings to himself.

While they both had plenty of things to do during the day and rarely saw each other then, they spent almost every evening since coming to the manor together. Usually they would eat dinner together, whatever wonderful meal Bibbly had prepared for the day, and then they would migrate to the library to read.

Voldemort generally had reports to go over, which he rarely shared with Harry, but he also kept up with just about every paper in the wizarding world as far as Harry could tell. Whenever he came across an interesting story, he would often read it aloud, asking Harry questions about it. Despite the solitude of the manor, it made Harry feel connected and invested, both with the wider wizarding world and with Voldemort himself.

While the Dark Lord took care his work, Harry continued to study. The library, greatly updated since its muggle days, was full of a wide range of books on just about every subject imaginable. There was so much to learn, Harry had found, about magic and history and everything in between. He had been reading voraciously for weeks, which he knew would have surprised Hermione to no end had she known.

But she didn't, and she likely never would. Harry found that it only hurt a little thinking about how he had left his friends behind. He’d found something else, something better even. For the first time, he really felt like he fit in. He was happy.


	5. Chapter 5

By the time his birthday rolled around, Harry felt liked her really settled into life at Riddle Manor. It was a little strange to have only adults surrounding him instead of kids his own age, but for once he felt safe and content.

He woke on his birthday to the smell of bacon frying. He rose, still a little groggy, and made his way to the kitchen where he assumed Bibbly was cooking. To his surprise, it was Voldemort at the stove.

"Happy birthday, Harry," he said as soon as Harry walked in the door. "Breakfast will be ready in a moment."

It was such a surprise that Harry couldn't think of anything to say. He just stood there and watched as Voldemort waved his wand, floating the bacon to a plate and then to the table, where a full breakfast spread waited. Harry moved to it almost in a daze.

"I didn't know you could cook," he said, at a loss for anything else to say.

Voldemort waved a hand dismissively. "It’s the same basic concept as potions, which I'm sure you'll remember I excel at," he said. "Besides, I thought it only right to do something special for your birthday as you're staying in my home."

"You didn't have to," Harry murmured, thinking of all the birthdays that had gone conspicuously uncelebrated with the Dursleys.

"Everyone deserves to have their birthday celebrated," Voldemort said just as quietly.

They remained silent for several moments as Harry tried to process his thoughts. It was odd that his former nemesis was putting so much care into something that, in the end, didn't really matter. Finally he just gave Voldemort a smile and dug in. He could think about it later.

When they finished eating, Voldemort called Bibbly in to clean up, telling Harry to do whatever he wanted, but be prepared for a party in a few hours.

"The others will be here for lunch later," Voldemort said. "And cake of course. I believe Bella had planned to make you one herself, so I’ll make sure Bibbly has a backup ready."

"The others?" Harry asked, already feeling overwhelmed.

"The Lestranges and the Malfoys primarily, though I believe Severus has grudgingly agreed to make an appearance," Voldemort replied casually. He seemed completely oblivious to how affected Harry was to everyone having actually planned something for his birthday.

He ate the bacon and eggs mostly in silence, content to listen to Voldemort tell him about the recent goings on of the Death Eaters and his political plans for the future. Although Harry had never been particularly interested in politics, he did find it interesting to see how far Voldemort’s plans reached. He knew that they had to be extensive based on everything that had happened in the first war. But to see it first hand was just something else.

As he was sopping up the last of his eggs with a piece of toast, he suddenly stopped in shock. This whole thing with Voldemort was so… domestic for lack of a better word. He honestly wasn’t sure how that had happened, and even more than that, he was surprised by how unbothered he was by the thought. He rather liked it, actually, and that certainly wasn’t something he’d expected when he’d first come to the manor.

The party wasn’t until after lunch, so they spent the rest of the morning in the library. Harry was surprised with himself that he didn’t mind reading for his lessons on his birthday. They were far more interesting than he’d ever thought learning could be, though he’d quickly realized that that was because Hogwarts was much less impressive than everyone thought. Narcissa’s further education abroad, which she’d told him about one day when he asked how she knew so much, was much more impressive to him. He actually felt like he was learning now, and enjoying it too.

Bibbly interrupted them for lunch while he and Voldemort were in the middle of a discussion about magical creature rights, which Harry also found far more interesting than he’d thought he would. And far more enlightening, since Voldemort’s views on the subjects were not nearly the same as Dumbledore and the Ministry would have him think.

They greeted the others before going over to the table of food Bibbly had prepared. Harry dug into the food, barely pausing to swallow before continuing to talk. Voldemort just raised one hairless eyebrow at the display, making Harry flush. He slowed a little, suddenly self conscious.

“I know your childhood was not exactly the beacon of elegance,” Voldemort teased, “but you might at least show a little manners. I’m sure Narcissa would be happy to help with that as well.”

Harry scrunched up his nose. “I’m sure she would. But I don’t want to turn into a stuck up weasel like Draco.”

“Understandable,” Voldemort said with a little laugh. Harry smiled, pleased by the reaction. “Speaking of, I had a question for you.”

“A question?” Harry asked, surprised. “About Draco?”

Voldemort nodded, looking strangely uncomfortable. “It has been brought to my attention that you may not be… content with being constantly surrounded by those so much older than yourself,” Voldemort said. His voice was tight, and Harry wondered why this topic was so difficult for him. “If you would like more companionship your age, I can arrange to have Draco and perhaps some of the other children of my Death Eaters come around.”

“Er,” Harry started, unsure of what to say. It hadn’t even occurred to him to be bothered about being surrounded by only adults. It was kind of nice, actually, when he thought about it. They didn’t mock him or treat him like he was either a hero or a disappointment. They made him feel like he was a person all on his own. He’d enjoyed that without even realizing the difference.

But here Voldemort was, offering him new friends basically, as much as it was obviously paining the older man to do so. Only, Harry wasn’t sure he wanted them, or needed them, now. He’d come to like the Malfoys far more than he’d expected, but that didn’t necessarily mean he’d come to like Draco the same way. They had a lot more history, and none of it good.

“No thanks,” Harry finally said, shaking his head firmly. “I’m, uh, happy like this.”

Voldemort’s grumpy expression morphed into something much happier for a split second before he was able to moderate it with a quick nod. Harry stared, heart beating faster in his chest with some strange feeling that he wasn’t sure he wanted to investigate. But he was happy that he’d made the older man happy, surprising as that was.

Harry cleared his throat. “So, should we rejoin the party, then?” he asked, receiving another nod from Voldemort. “I’m not sure I want to try Bella’s cake, but Bibbly’s looks good.”


	6. Chapter 6

The only way Harry knew that the new school year at Hogwarts had started was that Narcissa told him. Staying at the manor with only Voldemort’s daily papers to show the passing of time left him a little confused about the date sometimes, but he didn’t mind too much. He had plenty to occupy himself with.

He’d found he rather liked both the defensive and offensive aspects of magic. There was so much more to it that he’d never learned, or that had ever been hinted at, while he was attending Hogwarts. It was… exciting to learn things now, and Narcissa was every bit as good a teacher as Voldemort had said she’d be. Not that Voldemort was every wrong about anything, he’d learned.

So he kept studying, kept learning, kept reading. Sometimes it made him miss the simplicity of bullshitting essays at two in the morning with Ron while Hermione looked them over like a hawk. But despite missing their presence occasionally, he was content with this new status quo. Never once did he regret that impulsive yes in the graveyard.

As fall turned into winter, with Christmas coming quickly, Harry realized that he’d need to get everyone gifts. He couldn’t exactly go out and shop for them at the moment; as far as anyone outside the manor knew, he was missing and presumed dead, according to Snape. His only other option was to ask someone for an owl order catalogue or to make something.

Most of the people he wanted to get gifts for, the Malfoys and the Lestranges, were easy. He ordered them books and scarves and jokes from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. It made for a nice mix of practical and amusing that he hoped they’d enjoy. The hard gift to decide on was for Voldemort.

He spent far more time with Voldemort than anyone save Narcissa, and most of the time he felt like he knew the older wizard fairly well. They talked in the evenings, read together in the library, went over plans for Voldemort’s eventual takeover of the ministry. But none of that really gave Harry any idea of what to get him for Christmas.

As he mused over the idea, another realization hit him. Voldemort’s birthday. He seemed to remember something about it being in winter. Which would mean it was coming up soon.

Some quick and probably not entirely inconspicuous sleuthing found him Voldemort’s birthday, December 31st. That didn’t leave much time for Harry to get together two gifts, especially when he hadn't had much of an idea for the one gift in the first place. This was going to take some thinking, and probably some help. He wondered whether it would be more mortifying to ask Narcissa or Bella for ideas.

It turned out that Bella had quite a few ideas for gifts, and none of them were really appropriate for the relationship he had with Voldemort. He wasn’t sure the older man would appreciate gifts with such romantic or sexual overtones, as much as Harry secretly liked the idea of them. Voldemort probably just thought of him as a slightly annoying, mostly just politically useful, child.

By the time Christmas came around, Harry finally had some gifts that didn’t make him embarrassed just to think about giving them to Voldemort. He hoped that the Dark Lord would appreciate them, or at least not laugh. That was important, because Harry didn’t really have anywhere to run away to if that happened.

Christmas Day dawned bright and cold. Harry wrapped himself in a blanket as he made his way down to the kitchen, expecting to find Bibbly there with breakfast ready. To his surprise, the kitchen was empty. He frowned, looking around the room in confusion. There should be pastries and sausages waiting, but for some reason, there weren’t.

A sound from down the hall had him instinctively grabbing his wand. The only people in the manor should be him, Voldemort, and Bibbly, both of whom he’d expected to be in the kitchen at this time. Carefully and quietly, he crept toward the noise, ready with a spell in case something was wrong.

He looked around the doorway, then sighed, putting his wand away immediately. Voldemort turned away from the overly decorated Christmas tree at the sound, a slightly guilty look on his serpentine face. He had a wrapped present in his hands, one he’d been shaking just seconds before.

“Harry,” he said, clearing his throat. “Happy Christmas.”

Harry grinned, stepping further into the room. “Are you shaking your presents?” he asked with some amount of amused disbelief. That seemed exceedingly childish for an almost seventy year old wizard.

“I was curious,” Voldemort said quietly, posture turning a little defensive. “I haven’t ever gotten presents before.”

“You-” Harry cut himself off before he could say something stupid. He thought for a moment, and it made sense. Voldemort didn’t have any family, didn’t even really have any friends. He’d grown up in a muggle orphanage. Who would have ever been there to give him a present?

“Well, I hope my present doesn’t disappoint for your first one,” he finally said, watching Voldemort carefully. He knew how it felt to grow up without presents and to get them for the first time without expecting anything. “I wasn’t really sure what to get for you.”

“I’m sure it will be perfect,” Voldemort replied, voice so soft that Harry wasn’t quite sure he hadn’t imagined the reply.

They stood there for a few awkward moments, staring at each other and wondering what to say. Harry felt something like pity bubbling up in the pit of his stomach, but he was sure Voldemort wouldn’t appreciate that sentiment. Better to move onto something less emotionally loaded, for both of them.

“Well, uh, what are the plans for today?” he asked.

The corner of Voldemort’s mouth curled up, not quite a smile yet. “The Malfoys are having a private party this evening,” he said. “I wondered if you might like to attend. I think it’s time we introduced you to my Death Eaters.”

***

The party was almost exactly what Harry had imagined it would be. Malfoy Manor was decorated almost to excess, fairy lights and glittering snowflakes dripping from every surface while twelve foot Christmas trees graced nearly every corner of the public areas. Harry found it a little overwhelming even after seeing the decorations at Hogwarts.

Once again, he was robed and disillusioned. It allowed him to wind his way through the crowds of Death Eaters without a problem, drinking punch and eating finger foods to his heart’s content. Sometimes it was nice to be anonymous.

Draco and his friends, all children of the attending Death Eaters, were in one corner of the room. Harry found it strange to see them again. It had been half a year since he’d seen anyone but Bibbly or Voldemort and his Inner Circle, and he wasn’t sure how to act. They wouldn’t know who he was, not yet, but that only seemed to make it harder to think of something to say to them. Perhaps he was better off just wondering on his own.

Harry spent most of the party by himself, interspersed with conversations with the few people who knew who he was under the robe. It was amusing to see the way the other Death Eaters looked at him then, this anonymous figure talking quite comfortably with Bellatrix or Lucius or even Voldemort himself. He wondered what they thought of him.

As the party wound down around midnight, Voldemort motioned for Harry to follow him to the stage where earlier instruments had been magicked to play holiday tunes. Harry stood a few steps away from the Dark Lord, nervousness twisting in his gut as he waited.

“My loyal followers,” Voldemort hissed, silence almost immediately falling over the crowded room. He petted Nagini’s head, the serpent curled up over his shoulder as she regarded the crowd. “I hope you’ve enjoyed this party, most graciously hosted by Lord and Lady Malfoy.” The Malfoys, near the front, bowed briefly. “But now, I have a surprise for you all. Let me introduce you to…”

Harry felt the spell hiding his identity melt away, and he pulled the hood down, smiling a little self consciously at the gasps the move elicited.

“...Harry Potter.”

Whispers swelled up around the room, rippling out as those further back were assured of what they’d just seen and heard. Harry could see that Voldemort was grinning in his own way, a sardonic twist of his lips that anyone else who hadn’t spent so much time with him probably wouldn’t have noticed.

“This information is to remain in this room,” Voldemort said over the hubbub. “But you should all know now that our victory now is practically guaranteed.”

***

The manor was much busier in the following week once the Death Eaters were allowed to roam further than the front parlor. Harry tried not to change his schedule too much, though he wasn’t particularly interested in conversing with most of the Death Eaters. Largely, they just seemed interested in getting a glimpse of him, as if they needed to be sure they’d really seen him at the Christmas party. He supposed they had a point in their curiosity, but he wasn’t wild about being gawked at once again.

Thankfully, he had birthday party preparations to keep him busy and away from the more travelled thoroughfares of the manor. With Bellatrix and Narcissa’s help, he’d planned a small but hopefully enjoyable gathering, and somehow Voldemort was still none the wiser about his plans as far as he knew. Now it just remained to get Voldemort there without tipping him off.

They spent the morning of the 31st like any other day, though Harry felt like he might vibrate out of his skin with excitement. Voldemort looked at him strangely a few times, like he knew something was up but couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but Harry was confident the secret party was still secret.

At just after six, once the others had quietly apparated in and made it to the room decorated for the party, Harry sent Bibbly to fetch Voldemort. Harry waited with baited breath as the group ringed the room, talking quietly among themselves. Finally, the doorknob turned and in swept Voldemort, Bibbly just a step behind him. He stopped just inside the doorway, confusion flashing across his face for a split second as he took in the people and the decorations.

“What’s this?” he asked, eyes locking on Harry’s, making him flush.

Harry smiled through the heat in his cheeks and took a step forward, feeling like everyone in the room was looking at him. They probably were. “It’s your birthday party!”

Voldemort shook his head slowly. “I…” he said, seemingly at a loss. “I don’t celebrate my birthday.”

“Everyone deserves to have their birthday celebrated, remember?” Harry said, voice soft. There was a warmth blossoming in his chest, like some sort of pure happiness that hadn’t been felt in years, and somehow he was sure Voldemort could feel it too. It was a little confusing.

The party went even better than Harry had hoped it would. He could tell that Voldemort, though he didn’t really show it on the outside, was enjoying the party. It had probably been a long time, if ever, since someone had done something specifically for _him_ that didn’t include Unforgivable Curses or killing people. Harry was glad that he could be the one to do that.

There was something that had been bothering him all evening though. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was, just that there was a feeling in the back of his mind that he’d never noticed before. It might have been there all along, hidden, but until tonight he’d never known that that was what he was feeling. He had the vague idea that it was important for him to find out what it was, if only he knew how.

Near the end of the night, once a few of the attendees had started going home or to some later New Year’s Eve parties, Harry and Voldemort ended up in a spot of quiet next to the drinks table. Voldemort had a glass of whiskey in his hand, sipping it slowly as he looked around at the scattered groups of people talking.

“Something on your mind, Potter?”

Harry shrugged. “Just a… weird feeling,” he said after a moment, trying to piece together what he was feeling into words. “Like I can feel something that’s not my feeling to feel, you know?”

Voldemort let out a huff of laughter, startling Harry into looking up at him, a frown growing on his face. That was… not the reaction he was expecting to get. More than that, he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Voldemort laugh like that before.

“What?” Harry demanded, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

“I didn’t realize you could feel it too,” Voldemort said, making Harry drop his arms in shock. The Dark Lord seemed amused by Harry’s reaction.

“Too?” Harry asked. “What’s that mean?”

Voldemort was silent for a long moment, like he was trying to think, and Harry just watched and waited. It was something he’d started to do over his months at the manor, watching Voldemort. At first it had been because he was curious over this man he’d so spontaneously agreed to go with, but more and more it had become just because he wanted to. The curiosity hadn’t abated, it’d just become a little deeper.

“We’re connected, you and I,” Voldemort finally said, voice quiet, barely rising enough over the chatter of the party for Harry to hear him. “I’m not sure how yet, though I have a feeling it has something to do with the night I gave you that scar. Our feelings… bleed over, for lack of a better descriptor. I can feel yours, and you can feel mine."

It was strange, but Harry could feel the truth in the answer, though he wasn’t sure what it meant for him or them. Not that Voldemort had ever lied to him before. Harry didn’t think he ever would. But this was certainly a surprise that would take some time to process.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooow, I just really suck at updating when I say I will, don't I? Sorry, guys! But the fic _is_ finished and there's just a few more chapters for me to edit and post. So I promise this time I won't just disappear for a week lol

In June, around the time Hogwarts would be getting out for the summer, Snape brought back some very interesting news. It was a private meeting, just the Inner Circle, Voldemort, and Harry. Harry’d only been attending such meetings for a couple of months and it was still something of a thrill to feel like he was really being trusted, really had a stake and say in what was going on around him.

Apparently there had been an organization, headed by Dumbledore of course, that had worked to fight Voldemort during the first war. Since they had thus far been unsuccessful at finding Harry almost a year after his disappearance, and Dumbledore was still convinced Voldemort had something to do with it despite the dearth of evidence, he’d reinstated it as a precautionary measure.

Harry wasn’t surprised to hear that Sirius and Remus had immediately rejoined. Snape had grudgingly disclosed that the two of them had been going off on their own looking for Harry. Harry had to admit that he did miss the two of them. They had been like uncles to him even in the short time he’d known them, and he knew they cared about him more than anything. He was all either of them really had.

He wondered what they thought about Dumbledore’s insistence that Voldemort was connected to his disappearance. The Daily Prophet had quickly refuted Dumbledore’s claims, and when he refused to back down or show any sort of evidence, they’d practically turned him into the laughing stock of Wizarding Britain. Voldemort had found that particularly amusing, especially when Lucius started giving interviews about his reticence for having Dumbledore continue in his job as headmaster at Hogwarts. After all, who would want a crackpot, even a previously very popular one, taking care of their children?

It was one of the main points in Voldemort’s plan for weakening the current power structures in the wizarding world. Dumbledore had long been one of the most power wizards in the world, and any attempt to change things would have to begin with taking him down. Even now, his reputation wasn’t too damaged by the things The Daily Prophet was printing about him.

Harry was only a little bitter the wizarding world wasn’t so capricious about Dumbledore as they’d proven to be about him. Hopefully that would change.

***

During the summer, Narcissa spent more time at home with Draco, so Harry was able to spend most of his days doing whatever he liked instead of attending lessons. He still spent a lot of time studying, but he’d also taken to prowling the grounds that surrounded Riddle Manor. He didn’t mind not being able to go anywhere else, but sometimes the house, as big as it was, became a little too stifling. He needed a little freedom.

Sometimes one of the Death Eaters, usually whichever member of the Inner Circle happened to be hanging around the manor that day, would go walking with him. He wasn’t sure if Voldemort had asked them to for his protection or they were just curious about him. It didn’t matter too much either way; some human contact other than Voldemort was nice every once in awhile.

He was walking alone, just meandering along the edge of the property and enjoying the sunshine and light breeze when it happened. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but there was a sudden flash of light, and then he felt the wards go down. His wand was in his hand in an instant, trained that way by fights with Bellatrix, who liked to start a duel before her enemy was ready. He turned in a tight circle, eyes peeled for any movement, and then it all went black.

Harry woke up with a start, eyes flying open in panic. There was something soft and a little scratchy beneath him, nothing like the silk sheets on his bed at the manor. Which meant he was somewhere else, and that was not good news.

“Remus, he’s awake!”

Harry turned his head in surprise to see Sirius sitting at the foot of the bed he was lying on, a wide smile on his still somewhat gaunt face. He was looking back to the other side of the room, and Harry followed his gaze to see Remus standing by a small kitchenette, a cup of steaming tea in hand. He set it down on the counter immediately, striding over to stand at Sirius’s side.

“Harry,” he breathed out, a smile to match Sirius’s growing on his face. “It’s good to see you.”

“Um, you too?” Harry said, sitting up slowly. His body felt a little heavy, slow to obey his thoughts, and he wondered what in the world they’d hit him with. “What’s… what’s going on?”

“We saved you, of course!” Sirius exclaimed, scooting his chair a little closer with a screech of wood on wood. He grabbed Harry’s hand, squeezing it in what he probably thought was a reassuring way. It probably would have been if he hadn’t been so completely wrong.

Harry looked between the two of them consideringly. He loved and trusted them to an extent, but so had he everyone else that he left behind too. And he’d left them all with barely a thought when given the chance. It felt different with Sirius and Remus though, because they were the parental figures he'd never really had.

"I know you're worried about me," he finally said, drawing crooked, somewhat bitter grins from them. "But you didn’t save me from anything. I went with Voldemort of my own free will. I've stayed because I want to."

"But why would you want,to stay with... him?" Remus asked, desperation bleeding into his voice. "What can he offer you that you didn't have before?"

Harry shrugged. "A lot of things, to be honest," he replied, thinking about how much his life had changed in the past year. "A real home, adults who care about me-"

"We care about you," Sirius broke in, sounding wounded. Remus put a consoling hand on his shoulder, and Harry smiled a little.

"I know," he said, because that was one thing he did know. Whatever else had been bad back then, however much her felt unwanted, Sirius and Remus had never made him feel that way. He was grateful for that.

"If it's just about a house, I can talk to Dumbledore," Sirius said. "Get him to let you live with me during the breaks. He won't like it, but surely he'll listen now."

"He won't," Harry replied, grimacing. He thought of all the times he’d begged Dumbledore to let him go somewhere, anywhere, else to no avail. "He thinks I need to stay with the Dursleys no matter how they treated me, but I can't. I won't. And I don't want to put you in the middle of it either, that's not fair."

Remus frowned, obviously noticing something in what Harry said that Sirius hasn't picked up on. "How did the Dursleys treat you, Harry?" he asked slowly, an edge of danger to his voice.

"Like shit would probably be too generous a term," he said wryly.

Sirius perked up at that, and if he had hackles in this form, Harry was sure they be up. "What did those filthy muggles do?" he growled. "Did they hurt you?"

Harry pursed his lips, trying to decide what to tell them. That the Dursleys had neglected him since the day he arrived on their doorstep? That they hit him for any seeming infraction? That he was treated worse than a house elf?

Apparently he stated quiet too long, and both Sirius and Remus took his silence as assent, eyes hardening as they shared a look full of fury. They weren't wrong, but he had to wonder exactly what they thought he gone through with the Dursleys. Was it better or worse than the reality?

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Harry finally said after watching Sirius and Remus silently working themselves up. “It’s over and I’m never going back. I found somewhere better.”

Sirius and Remus looked at each other, a conversation passing silently between them while Harry just looked on. He let them, knowing that what he’d told them was a lot to take in. His heart thumped heavily in his chest, unsure whether he should hope or be afraid. They’d come to a decision about what to do eventually. Hopefully it would be before Voldemort found him, for their sakes.

Eventually Remus nodded, though he looked uncomfortable. “Before we go home, we want to make sure you’re really ok there.”

“Okay,” Harry said, stretching the word out. “What exactly does that mean?”

“We’re going to come live with you in Voldemort’s little castle!” Sirius said, a ridiculous smile on his face.

It just made Harry roll his eyes before he stopped, the words registering a beat too late. “Wait, what?” he gasped. “No, that’s not-”

Before Harry could say another word, everything went to hell. There was a sound outside the room and they barely had a second’s warning before the door was blown clear off its hinges, shattering against the far wall. In swept a small group of Death Eaters, wands drawn, with Voldemort at the head.

Harry jumped up before he could even think about what he was doing, ignoring the lethargy still clinging to his limbs. He positioned himself between Sirius and Remus and the others, wishing he knew where they’d put his wand, and braced himself.

The attack never came. He could see the beginning of a spell on Voldemort’s lipless mouth, but as soon as Harry was in front of his wand, he froze. They stood there for a long moment, the only sound in the room Harry’s heavy breathing as he waited to see what would happen.

“Are you protecting your kidnappers, Potter?” Voldemort asked dryly, tip of his wand not wavering an inch.

Harry shrugged, relaxing a little when he couldn’t feel anything dangerous through their bond. “They had good intentions?” he tried with a grin.

Something like fond annoyance tickled up Harry’s spine and Voldemort’s wand lowered, followed only a moment later by the wands of the rest of the group he brought with him. An awkward silence descended over the room, and Harry knew it was better that he explained sooner rather than later. Hopefully Voldemort would be understanding.

“So, uh,” he started, giving a nervous laugh, “I think we should talk.”

Voldemort nodded and strode back through the ruined doorway. Harry followed after giving Sirius and Remus a look that he hoped would convince them to stay put and not cause any more trouble. He doubted it would be successful. Once he met the other man at the end of the hall, as private as they could get without going somewhere else completely, Voldemort put up a silencing barrier and the low murmur of the rest of the hotel fell away.

“They want to stay with me for a bit,” Harry said, deciding it was best to get straight to the point. He didn’t really trust Sirius and Remus in the same room with any of the Death Eaters. “They want to know I’m safe. Happy, you know?”

“They want to stay,” Voldemort repeated, voice flat. “At the manor.”

“Please?” Harry asked softly, hoping Voldemort could feel exactly how desperate he was for him to agree. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sirius trying to eavesdrop despite the silencing barrier Voldemort had put up. “They’re like my family, like the only real family I have.”

Voldemort’s face softened for a moment before he managed to put his mask back up. “Fine,” he replied curtly, rolling his eyes at Harry’s answering grin. “But they will stay away from my Death Eaters. And they’re going to have someone watching them at all times.”


	8. Chapter 8

Despite Voldemort’s reticence about letting Sirius and Remus stay at the manor, Harry thought they were doing quite well there. Or as well as they possibly could when they were surrounded by Death Eaters. Most of the time they only saw Narcissa or Bellatrix during Harry’s lessons, but, probably born out of some amused sadism, Voldemort had also assigned Snape to shadow them at all times.

Sirius and Remus had taken the bedroom right beside Harry’s, so of course Snape was in the one across the hallway. Snape didn’t usually stay at the manor, but it was summer, so Voldemort had decided that in order for him to perform his shadowing duties, moving in would be best. Neither Snape nor Sirius and Remus were happy about the situation. Harry had been amused before he realized that that meant he’d have Snape on his tail all the time. At least he had his lessons to distract him.

“Is this what you do all the time?” Sirius asked from his place on the floor where he was flipping aimlessly through a book. “You _study_?”

Harry shrugged, not looking away from the book on deadly poisons that he was currently taking notes from. “I guess,” he replied when Sirius poked him in the leg. “There’s a lot to learn, you know?”

“No one should be learning during the summer,” Sirius replied grumpily, wincing when Remus whacked him in the back of the head. Harry grinned fondly at the move, and he heard Snape snort somewhere behind them. “It’s the summer, Remus! He shouldn’t be forced to study, he should be… playing quidditch or something!”

“No one’s forcing me,” Harry replied, rolling his eyes.

“Well, I’m glad you’re taking your learning seriously, Harry,” Remus told him with a kind smile. “Even if you’re doing it here.”

“I’m learning a lot more here than I ever did at Hogwarts,” Harry said. He sighed a little, looking between the two of them. “I’d kind of hoped you’d have seen by now that leaving was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It hasn’t been too bad here, has it?”

Remus nodded while Sirius muttered something unflattering about Snape that Harry ignored. He’d heard variations of the same complaint since Snape had been assigned to watch them. It would have been nice if the two of them could at least ignore each other even if they couldn’t get along, but he doubted that was going to happen.

“I still say it’s no fun,” Sirius said, louder. Suddenly he sat up straighter, a wide smile growing on his face. “But your birthday is coming up! And that _has_ to be fun.”

Harry felt his head drop into his hands almost without conscious thought, and he groaned over Remus’s stifled laughter. He had a feeling that Sirius was going to make his birthday fun whether he liked it or not.

***

Sirius tried to keep the birthday plans quiet, but he’d never been exactly good at subtlety. Or keeping his mouth shut in general. As such, by the day of the party, Harry knew exactly what Sirius had planned.

Remus had been more than happy to fill in any of the blanks Harry hadn’t figured out for himself. That mostly consisted of the guest list, though Harry had a feeling it had more to do with not wanting to piss off the Dark Lord. Because of course Sirius hadn’t seen fit to invite him.

At first, the list had consisted solely of Sirius, Remus, and strangely, Snape. But it was Harry’s birthday, and if Sirius was going to throw him a party, he was going to make sure the people who had been around him for the past year were invited. It took a little finagling, but the Malfoys and the Lestranges all were eventually invited as well. It was getting Voldemort invited that was the hard part.

After several tries at pleading with and manipulating Sirius, Harry decided that getting him to invite Voldemort to the party just wasn’t going to happen. It had been weeks, but Sirius still didn’t trust Voldemort to have Harry’s best interests at heart. He was only a little annoyed that Sirius didn’t trust him to know that he wasn’t being somehow used by the Dark Lord.

So Harry decided he’d just have to invite Voldemort himself, screw Sirius’s plans. The smile he got when he managed to slip away from his triple shadow long enough to invite him was worth the pouting he knew he’d also be getting.

“Happy birthday, Harry!” Sirius shouted as Harry walked into the room for the party.

Harry smiled, not even bothering to act surprised, and hugged his godfather. The others came around to wish him happy birthday as well. Only Voldemort stayed off to the side, a small, strange smile on his mouth as he watched the party really get going.

Hours later, stuffed with his favorite foods and now in possession of more presents than he knew what to do with, Harry finally cornered Voldemort. The older man had participated, but Harry had the feeling he’d been holding back somehow. Avoiding him. And he wanted to know why.

“Enjoying the party?” Harry asked, sipping at a glass of chilled pumpkin juice.

Voldemort nodded. “It certainly seems that Black went to a lot of trouble to throw a good party for you.”

“He really did,” Harry replied with a fond smile. Then he sobered, shaking his head a little as he remembered what he’d come over to talk about. “You’ve been avoiding me, though. That’s not very nice of you.”

“Spending time with your friends and family is important,” Voldemort said simply, not looking at him. “I didn’t want to intrude.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open a little in shock. He wasn’t sure what to say to that, and it made his heart hurt a little to know that that was what Voldemort thought about the two of them. Were acquaintances all they really were after the past year?

Voldemort seemed to be waiting for him to say something, red eyes inscrutable, so Harry pulled himself together and offered a smile. “It’s not intruding when you’re part of my friends and family,” he said softly.

He paused for a beat, wondering if he should say anything else, then turned to rejoin the rest of party. When he looked back a little while later, Voldemort was gone. He tried not to show the others how bothered he really was.

That night, sitting on his bed, Harry found all of his belongings he’d been forced to leave at Hogwarts, from the Marauder’s Map to his Invisibility Cloak to every one of his textbooks. And Hedwig, too, who he was a little ashamed he hadn’t thought to worry about much before then. He fell asleep to her gentle, happy cooing, an answering smile on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~I patched the Hedwig shaped plot hole, huzzah!~~


	9. Chapter 9

Things were a little awkward after the party. Harry wasn’t sure what exactly the tipping point had been, but things had changed, at least for him. He couldn’t stop thinking about his conversation with Voldemort, couldn’t stop thinking about why he’d been so upset about what he’d said.

It took several more days and lot of avoiding his own feelings, but he finally realized it was because he wanted Voldemort to consider their relationship to be something more than acquaintances, something more than friends or family. And that scared the crap out of him.

He started avoiding Voldemort as much as possible because he honestly wasn’t sure what to do with his own feelings. He hadn’t been able to put them into more than vague words, even just to himself, so there was no way he’d be able to explain his sudden awkwardness. He could only hope Voldemort couldn’t feel the change in attitude because that would be all the more humiliating. He was well aware whatever feelings he had weren’t reciprocated.

Surprisingly, Sirius was the first one to realize that something was wrong. If Harry had thought about it, he would have guessed Remus would have been the one to pick up on the change in routine. But Sirius had always been good with feelings and giving advice, despite his sometimes overwhelming personality, so maybe it shouldn’t have been such a surprise.

After lessons one day, almost a fortnight after his birthday, Sirius cornered him in one of the unused rooms in the manor. Harry watched as Remus skillfully distracted Snape, letting Sirius pull Harry into the room, locking the door and putting up a silencing barrier with a wave of his wand.

“You’re acting weird,” Sirius said, eyes narrowed. “You’re avoiding Voldemort, and while I’d usually be in favor of that, it’s making you sad and I don’t like that.”

“It’s nothing,” Harry muttered, trying to push past his godfather with little success.

“Uh uh, not until you tell me what’s wrong,” Sirius said, waggling a finger.

Harry gritted his teeth, trying to think of something to do or say to get Sirius to drop it. Unfortunately, he knew very well that that was unlikely to happen. Once Sirius got an idea in his head, he wouldn’t just leave it alone. He’d hound Harry until he spilled the truth, no matter how much he didn’t want to.

“I’m… not really sure how to talk about it,” Harry admitted, taking a seat on the slightly dusty bed. Sirius sat next to him, a deep frown on his face. “Did you ever like someone and- and know they didn’t like you?”

“Sure,” Sirius replied with a shrug.

“What did you do?”

“I became ridiculously obnoxious,” Sirius replied. Harry snorted, making Sirius grin and bump their shoulders together. “More so than usual, I mean. Or so I heard from James. I think I’m delightful.”

“Right,” Harry said, trying to cover his laugh with a cough. “So what’d you do?”

“I asked him out…” Sirius paused, grinning widely, and Harry leaned forward in interest. “...and he said yes. We’ve been together ever since.”

Harry slumped a little. Of course. “I don’t think your thing with Remus is really the same as mine,” he grumbled. Not that he wasn’t happy for them, but he needed to be realistic. Right?

“You don’t know that,” Sirius said, patting him on the back. He smiled, looking far away. “Sometimes love just works out. But you’ll never know if you don’t go for it and find out.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Harry said softly. His gut was churning with nerves, but he knew he needed to follow Sirius’s advice this once, even if Sirius didn’t know exactly who he was advising Harry to make a move on.

“Thanks.” Harry leaned over and gave Sirius a grateful hug, then hopped up. He waved his own wand, ignoring Sirius’s dismay at his spells being so easily dismantled, and headed out with a grin on his face.

“Wait… you never said you who you like,” Sirius mumbled a moment later, barely loud enough for Harry to hear already halfway down the hallway. He heard rushed footsteps. “Harry? Harry!”

***

By the time Harry made it to Voldemort’s office, his sudden surge of confidence was starting to fail him. But he’d never been one to back down from a challenge, and this was just another challenge for him to face. It wasn’t even a challenge that had his life on the line for once. Probably.

He knocked on the door, only waiting a second before walking inside. Voldemort was seated at his desk, a look of annoyance falling away from his face when he saw who it was. Harry grinned at that, which had to be a good sign that he at least wouldn’t be on the wrong end of the Dark Lord’s wand if things went badly.

“Can I help you with something, Potter?” Voldemort asked when Harry froze just inside the doorway. “I do have work to do, you know.”

Harry nodded, carefully walking over until he stood by the side of the desk. Voldemort frowned a little, turning to face him. “I, uh, needed to tell you something.”

“Something…”

“It’s- it’s really personal and I probably shouldn’t say anything, but Sirius… Well, I probably shouldn’t follow his advice, but I think I’m in love with you and I’m kind of freaking out about it as you might have noticed,” Harry let out in a rush that was probably nigh on unintelligible. That was probably for the best.

Harry waited several long beats, waiting to feel the rush of humiliation and terror that he knew should be coming. And he did, but there was something else there coming through even stronger.

In the back of his mind, he could feel something that felt strangely like… joy. And it was only growing stronger. He wondered for a moment why he was feeling that when it hit him. It wasn’t his feelings he was feeling, at least not _just_ his feelings.

“Voldemort?” he asked softly, hand going almost instinctively to his scar. Abruptly, the feelings cut off, leaving him feeling even more confused and adrift. “Was that you?”

For a long moment, Harry didn’t think he’d get a reply. He waited, barely breathing, wondering if it would be better for them both if he just turned around and left and they forgot this whole thing ever happened. But he was a Gryffindor and he couldn’t bring himself to back down. Especially not with something this important.

“Of course it was me,” Voldemort replied haltingly. Despite the feeling Harry had felt from him, he didn’t look at all happy.

“Why’d you cut me off? Actually, no, we can talk about that later,” Harry said. He stepped around the side of Voldemort’s desk, leaving a scant foot of space between them. It felt almost like the air was vibrating with the decreased proximity, a heady buzz of magic and expectation. “You were happy? About what I said?”

“Yes.”

Harry waited a moment for an explanation, but one didn’t seem to be forthcoming. He frowned, not sure what to think. Voldemort was not usually this taciturn, at least not with him.

“But you’re not happy now?” he prodded, seeing the barest flinch in Voldemort’s face.

Voldemort sighed. “You deserve better than me,” he finally said, holding his hand up to preemptively stop Harry from arguing like they both knew he would. “I’m old, though I may not look it, and I have not chosen an easy path to power. You deserve more than that.”

“I think I deserve whatever it is I want and I want you,” Harry said stubbornly. He softened a little, smiling at the older wizard. “Besides, I’ve already chosen to follow you this far. Or don’t you remember that I threw away my whole life—well, almost my whole life—to come here?”

“That’s… true,” Voldemort said with a high huff of laughter. He shook his head. “But really, Potter, out of anyone?”

Harry shrugged, relaxing a little now that it looked like he wasn’t going to have to pretend like this whole thing was just some adolescent mistake. “You helped me learn to be myself when no one else would let me,” he said simply.

The statement seemed to stun Voldemort, because he just stared, eyes wide for a moment, before he sagged a little, looking older than Harry had seen him before, even after having to deal with idiot Death Eaters all day. He spoke, his words soft and hesitant. “I’m not a good man, Harry.”

“I know that,” Harry replied, warmth growing in his chest as he realized Voldemort had used his first name for the first time. “But that doesn’t make you helping me any less important.”

Voldemort nodded slowly, and Harry really hoped he understood what he was saying. Harry had never been very good at speaking. Acting yes, speaking no. But in this case, he thought it was important that Voldemort understood exactly what he meant. Because Harry didn’t want to see this new life crumble just because his words weren’t enough.

So maybe it would be better if he matched his words with action.

Moving slowly enough that Voldemort could stop things if he wanted to, Harry closed the gap between them. Despite the nerves bubbling up in his gut, he tilted his head, pressing their lips together in a kiss. He paused a second, giving Voldemort another chance to object, then deepened the kiss with a soft sigh.

It was strange kissing someone with no lips, not that Harry had a whole lot of kissing experience. It was even stranger kissing someone who wasn’t kissing back, and Harry had a moment of worry that he’d really made a mistake.

But finally, finally, Voldemort started kissing him back. Their mouths moved together as one, which had Harry wondering vaguely if they were reading each other's minds or feelings even like this. But that was something to explore later. For now, he just wanted to enjoy the feel of Voldemort’s mouth against his, the soft sounds of kissing, the cool hands gripping his hips just this side of too hard.

It took several minutes before Harry realized that he’d crawled up on the chair with Voldemort so that he was now straddling the older wizard’s lap. The realization made him pull back, cheeks flushing. Voldemort seemed to know exactly what had him so flustered, but he wouldn’t let Harry get down. His hands held on tight to Harry’s hips as he leaned forward to leave a line of hot kisses down Harry’s neck.

Harry felt his anxiety over their position fade away as he moaned, more than happy with the enthusiasm Voldemort was showing now. He’d come into the office not knowing exactly what would happen or what to expect, but this was far better than he could have dreamed. It was real, for one.

Just as Harry was starting to think that they should move to a more comfortable location than Voldemort’s office, there was a sudden thudding on the door. They were both up in an instant, wands raised even though the chance of them being attacked inside the manor was almost nonexistent. But Harry had learned quickly that it was best to be ready for anything.

“Harry?” Sirius shouted through the door, and Harry felt himself relax immediately, pocketing his wand. “Harry, are you in there?”

Harry turned and shrugged at Voldemort, who didn’t look particularly pleased with the interruption. “Yeah, I’m in here, Sirius,” he called back. “And Voldemort is too, so you might want to calm down a little.”

There was a scuffle on the other side of the door, then a thud like a body falling to the floor. Harry frowned, wondering what in the world that could be. He hoped Sirius was alright.

“Don’t mind him, Harry,” Remus said, amusement clear in his voice. “He just got a little worried after your conversation earlier. I assured him he was jumping to conclusions thinking you were going to confess your love for Voldemort, but he wouldn’t listen.”

Harry glanced over at Voldemort, who was now looking far more amused by the situation. He sighed, shaking his head over the ridiculousness of the people in his life. At least he had them in his life, though he was a little worried that the conversation they were about to have would end in hexes being thrown. Hopefully he could forestall that by getting it over with as soon as possible. He turned in surprise when Voldemort was suddenly beside him, tangling their fingers together in solidarity.

“Actually,” Harry said, grinning as he headed for the door, “I think it’s best we have a talk about that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus it ends :) Thank you so much to everyone who read and commented while this was going up! I really appreciate your support, and I hope I didn't disappoint. A couple of people have asked, so yes, I am probably going to do a sequel of sorts from Voldemort's POV. So look for that... eventually lol
> 
> Concrit welcome. If you like my fic, feel free to come hit me up [on tumblr](http://voldiebuns.tumblr.com/)!

**Author's Note:**

> Concrit welcome. If you like my fic, feel free to come hit me up [on tumblr](http://voldiebuns.tumblr.com/)!


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